I was down at the PT bus terminal this afternoon shooting footage for my short film, “Maj. Nobody.” A woman drove up, took my picture, and said, “Hey, what are you doing?” “I’m making a movie,” I replied. “You don’t have my permission,” she said. “Huh?” “You don’t have my permission to put me in your movie,” she explained. “Oh,” I told her, “I was taking pictures of the garbage can. You’re not in the movie.” “Oh, okay,” she said, then drove off.
Rude, right? Reminds me of that night when I was minding my own business sleeping in my car in the empty parking lot of a church in Ballard when a woman came knocking on the glass and said, “You can’t sleep here.” Of course, I turned that incident into a book, so many I can use the line “You Don’t Have My Permission” somewhere in my film, maybe even change the name of the flick to that. Stay tuned.
For the past five years or so, I’ve released at least one book per year. Last year’s release was Obey the Darkness: Horror Stories. This was back in February, if I recall correctly. Anyway, since then, I haven’t put out any new books at all. I’ve been writing poems furiously since February of this year, and getting some published at various magazines, but I had no books planned for this year. A few days ago, I decided to go ahead and create a release for 2019. The book, a relatively short one at 35 pages, is called Welcome to Flowerville: Poetry from San Juan Commons. It contains 19 poems I’d written years ago, heavily edited and modernized, of course, as well as photographs of flowers I’d taken from around this adult residence I live in. Even though the general theme of the poems do have something to do with flowers, the book is not actually about that. The flowers were used to inject color, figuratively and literally, to the poems which, themselves, deal with heavier subject matter like loss, betrayal, death, you know, the fun stuff. Lately, my poetry has the ghost of Anne Sexton watching over them. Despite her personal flaws, I do like her work and they are an inspiration for this collection. I guess I’m glad I still have the strength and wherewithal to write and release books. When it comes out maybe I’ll treat myself to a nice lunch from one of the local eateries.
Hi, all. Just a little update. It’s the end of June and, so far, I’ve written about 310 poems since the middle of February, 46 of which have been accepted for publishing in various magazines. For some reason, I’m having bad luck getting the few haikus I’ve written published. I guess that isn’t my forte. Oh, well. You can’t win ’em all.
In other news, just yesterday, I was interviewed by Chris from the local paper, the Port Townsend Leader. He said his article should appear this coming Wednesday or the Wednesday two weeks from now. Pretty cool.
A mixed bipolar episode, for those who don’t know, means the afflicted is suffering from down-in-the-dumps depression along with higher-than-high aspirations at the same time. For the past few months, I’ve wanted nothing more than to jump headfirst into an active volcano and erase all that is Robin from the face of the earth. While thinking that, I also managed to write a book of poems. I still don’t know what I’ll call the collection but I’m hoping it’ll be in print by this summer or fall. I really have in mind one publisher to handle my book, Copper Canyon Press right here in Port Townsend. Their requirement is some of my poems had to have been published by other concerns. I’ve thus taken the liberty of sending out my poems for consideration in the hope that, if I get at least five or ten of them published, Copper Canyon would sign my book. We’ll see.
Wow. It’s been a while since I’ve made an entry on this site. I’m proud to say I’ve maintained this blog, albeit haphazardly, for five years or so. In all that time, I’ve left homelessness and stabilized my life around a sleepy Victorian town (Port Townsend). I have a doctor I see every three or four months, take my pills regularly, eat and drink like a champ, watch movies and TV, and every so often, go for an afternoon constitutional around the block. I wish I still had my car, but oh well. Things change.
I’ve been domiciled for about seven months now so I’m not complaining; I got too old for all this sleeping in the back of the car/wandering the streets nonsense anyway. I go to the local food bank relatively frequently, I’d say about 2-3 times a month. It really helps out since the majority of my SSDI goes to the rent.
So here we have a new near coming up. I have two TV’s – A 55″ Roku and an Android box hooked up via HDMI to the Roku which, in essence, gives me two TV’s. For the past few months I’ve been programming the Android box to where I now get about 10,000 channels. But guess what? Watching TV can still be a bore so I decided to get back into one of my earlier hobbies – writing and recording music. Since I won’t be working with a band, I figure it’d be easier and simpler to just record electronic dance music. So, to that end, I have an electronic keyboard and monitors coming here from Amazon in a few days. And I can’t wait!
Basically speaking, I live in a nursing home. At 56, I’m still the youngest bloke here. I’ve been thrilled to find out that quite a few of my neighbors have reduced hearing because of their advanced age; this bodes well for me and makes it possible, I hope, to build a home recording studio here. Anyway, that’s where I am now. Things aren’t too bad; my health is relatively okay except for my gout-weakened legs. I can’t complain, though. Bombs aren’t flying overhead and there’s no imminent threat of a Pacific tsunami to Port Townsend any time soon. What does 2019 have in store for us? Only time will tell. Stay tuned.
I should be. I’m not fighting in a vicious, endless war somewhere. I’m not in jail or homeless. Physically, I’m relatively okay except for my knees which have been giving me gout pains for months. My rent gets paid every month thanks to the Social Security Administration. I have food in my cupboard thanks to the SSA, food stamps, and the Port Townsend Food Bank. I have a big ass 55″ 4K Smart TV and this laptop which I’ve had for years. I have a bed, a sofa, a microwave oven, a toaster and a vacuum cleaner which I’d gotten from OlyCAP (Olympic Community Action Programs). So, nothing to complain about, right? Then why am I so damned depressed?
I recently got rid of my car which I’d had for five years. As you know, it wasn’t just a car; it was my home as well. Because where I live is a bit of a distance from downtown where all the stores are, I’m dependent on the buses. That isn’t a problem, though, because they do run every hour during the day, none on Sunday. I spend my entire days alone. I’m not exactly isolated, but I’d just rather be by myself. Less angst and turmoil that way.
The anti-depressants and anti-psychotics didn’t work for me. All they did was give me horrible side effects so I had to discontinue them. Meditation is a waste of time because my mind never slows down. It wanders and wanders, always thinking about something. Basically, I can’t concentrate. It seems like the only way for me to sit still and watch a movie is to have a beer or two beneath my belt. Not that I necessarily like drinking, but it does slow me down enough to where I can see a flick all the way through. Hopefully this funk, this dark cloud and doom of despair, won’t last.